The Not-So-Elusive Furby Hoarder

Well, now that my most frustrating day ever is mostly over, I suppose now is a good time to introduce myself.

My name is Alphonse. I am a 22-year-old gay transgender boy with a big, deep love for pretty things, silly things, and furbies. At the moment I have twenty-three, and I’m always looking to hoard more!

Man, today. Nothing went my way this morning. I think every single thing that could have gone wrong did exactly that. My hard drive was so low on space that I lost several files to the abyss of unsaved work, my computer shut off unexpectedly while I was in the middle of editing, the background workings behind the furby fanzine refused to actually, you know, work, we accidentally paid for a year-long subscription to something when we meant to only purchase a month, there was miscommunication left and right, and on top of that, I’m sick with a cold and dizzy as all get out.

Yesterday, as I was getting off the couch, my back pain suddenly came back on like a light switch. I made a chiropractor appointment and they were able to see me in an hour, thankfully. Follette Troillefou the jester furby waited patiently with my grandmother for the doctor to fix me up.

Do furbies care when their human is in pain? I like to think so. This one is certainly there for me whenever I feel bad. His silly little hat brings joy to my heart when I’m down, his super retro blue eyeshadow reminds me to try to have fun with my life.

Am I too old to play with furbies? Probably, depending on who you ask. Do I ever let that stop me? Please. Take your joyless criticism elsewhere. My furbies and I are in the business of fun, and we’re quite busy.